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Castiel shouldn’t have said yes. He knows he should’ve kept looking for a job instead of taking this one as a temporary thing, but it had seemed like a great opportunity at the time. Now, no one will hire him after he accidentally murders the Stephson’s baby. He should have known that everyone lied when they said their kids were little angels. It’s not the baby’s fault that Castiel is awful at this, but he can very much blame the parents. That must have been why they left so fast. No one is that eager to go to the local theater unless they are escaping a worse fate.
When the bell rings, Castiel can barely hear it over the crying. He must have missed it the first time, because by the time he reaches the door, the noise is just a constant buzzing. Or maybe Cas’ eardrum finally broke and this is his life now. He puts the baby - God, why can’t he remember the name?- down, close enough that he can still see her from the foyer. He opens the door, tracking the baby’s movement. She’s sitting down, but Castiel has learned that babies can and will crawl as fast as they can as soon as you stop looking at them.
“Hello, is cash okay?” Castiel asks, barely glancing at the pizza delivery person before his eyes fall back inside the house.
–
Dean looks up from his phone, locking it on the half typed out reply to a text Sammy sent half an hour ago. He doesn’t want to get another complaint call to his manager just because he’s looking at his phone when a customer answers the door. Sure, most of them are stoners and kids at slumber parties who don’t give a fuck but sometimes you get the fancy schmucks who get real pissy when he doesn’t give them a song and dance whilst he hands over their greased up 5 star dining. And this guy seems more like the fancy schmuck type. Especially in a neighborhood like this. Baby idling out front sticks out like a sore thumb. A sexy one. But still sore.
The guy in front of him isn’t even looking his way though as he asks about payment, so Dean has time to stuff his phone away unseen and plaster his award-winning grin on in time for the guy to turn to face him.
“Cash or card, man. If you got it, I take it.” Jesus wept. Dean barely holds back the wink that was making its way to the surface. That was not how he intended that to come out… Like he’s a walking advertisement for homosexual innuendos all of a sudden.
Or the beginning to a really bad porno. Although, now that he gets a proper look at the guy in front of him face on, he’s pretty sure he’d watch that porno. Even with the suspicious stain on the guy's shirt.
–
Castiel is sure this is punishment. He has ordered pizza from this place before and not once had it betrayed him like it is doing right now. Of all possible staff, this is what he gets. What could reasonably be the man of his dreams, carrying delicious smelling pizza into a house that Castiel half wished he owned, saying that kind of stuff and for what? For a crying baby as a soundtrack? For a stained shirt as his go to go look? Castiel knew he was going to pay for drinking that communion wine when he was 13, but this is just excessive.
“Cash it is.” Castiel tries to smile, patting the back of his pants for his wallet. Pats it again when he doesn’t feel it. Tries his other pockets. “I- Just give me one second. I must have left it upstairs.”
It is in that second that Castiel realizes that he can’t leave the door open to go and look for the money. Crawley baby would get out. He doesn’t know how the baby would somehow go past the pizza man, but the baby could. That or the pizza man would believe Castiel is completely incompetent when it came to taking care of people, which is also a no. He could try to pick up the baby as he makes his way upstairs, but that baby does not want to be held sometimes and back to incompetence in front of the pizza man it is.
There’s only one alternative. Castiel is doing this for the greater good. To protect the baby.
“Would you like to come in while I look for it?” Castiel offers, sensibly, moving slightly so the pizza man can enter if he wants to. Why would he want to, tho? “You can go to the kitchen, it’s there to the left, and I can give you a drink or something after it. For the trouble.” Castiel hopes he says yes. He desperately needs a yes here.
–
“Oh, uh, sure.” Not the first time he’s been invited into someone's house on the job. Not the first time he’s said yes either. It’s hardly trouble but Dean doesn't say that to him. This is Dean's last delivery anyway and he is kind of thirsty now the guy mentions it. ‘I can give you a drink or something after it’… ‘for the trouble’? Is this guy forreal? He knows he was the one that started with the suggestive innuendo but come on. He’s pretty sure he’s heard that exact line in a video once. In a voice exactly like that. If this guy hasn’t already, he should seriously consider phone sex, he’d make bank.
Well, okay, admittedly the baby does put a damper on the porno idea. Not that Dean was seriously thinking about it but in a job like this your mind can’t help but go there and Dean is a porn connoisseur at this point. He’s taken his hand around the block. There are certain professions that are overrepresented in the porn industry and this just so happens to be one of them through no fault of the hardworking pizza people everywhere. Dean is an outlier and should not be counted.
Stepping into the house, he does the customary looking around the new space glance, which would have been more fun if the place was offering the eyes anything to work with. It was nice. If you liked bland and beige.
Say goodbye to those perfectly maintained walls once the little squirt hits its motor control age , Dean inwardly scoffs, remembering Sammy’s haphazard squiggles adorning the walls.
The guy hastily shuts the door behind him and Dean heads off to where he pointed, through the doorway into an equally boring kitchen. Dean’s sensing a theme.
“One moment please, it shouldn’t take long to find.”
“No, yeah, Take your time, dude.”
Dean places the pizza on one of the counters, careful to avoid the bits and pieces strewn over the surface; deconstructed baby bottles, some kind of salve with the lid off, what looks like a puddle of spilled milk.
–
It’s not until halfway up the stairs that Castiel remembers the baby. He races back downstairs, hoping against hope that the baby hasn’t gone to the kitchen and then, that there’s no choking hazard that might look tasty enough to risk it in her little baby mind. He swears that he’s better at this, because there’s no way in hell that he’s actually this bad. Maybe he should apologize to his siblings for having been a baby at all.
Apparently, Miss Baby has decided that the cure for crying is chewing on… Castiel doesn’t know what that is. Castiel should not let the baby chew on things, period. But the baby is distracted enough that Castiel can grab her and make the rough surprise into delighted giggles by virtue of babies loving feeling like they are about to be tossed even when they are just being swung.
Baby grabbed, Castiel trods up the stairs, begging that his wallet is where he thinks he might have left it.
“I see,” Castiel starts, trying to recall if talking to the baby lowers the potential of crying. “Well, I agree. Pizza would taste much better if we shared it.” A small fist hits him on the shoulder and Castiel nods as he opens the nursery’s door. “It would be rude not to offer.”
Scared of turning on the lights in the room and causing another cataclysm, Castiel uses the small rays of pale yellow that filter from the hallway to search. He doesn’t know how long it takes him, fumbling with one hand and jostling the baby from time to time in the vague hopes she will keep looking at Castiel like he’s the most entertaining thing in the world.
Of course, the moment Castiel finds the wallet, it’s the same moment he accidentally kicks it under the dresser. He will never drink wine again. The stolen blood of Christ is haunting him, not inebriating him. Betrayed, two-fold.
Castiel crouches down, putting the kid next to the dresser and keeping her upright by resting one of his palms on her tummy. He keeps both eyes on the baby, mumbling nonsense as he reaches blindly under the dresser.
By the time Castiel has both the baby and wallet on hand, he’s sure that he owes the pizza man the largest tip ever. He trods downstairs all the same, taking a breath. It will be fine. The pizza man said he could take as long as he needed. Jesus, Castiel’s night can’t possibly go worse.
“I’m so sorry,” Castiel says, entering the kitchen, rearranging the baby in his arms. “I couldn’t find my wallet. $19.99, right?” He tries to balance opening his wallet and the baby, but the baby does not like that. She doesn't like that at all. Because she starts crying again, right next to Castiel’s ear.
–
As soon as the guy heads out, Dean starts idly opening cupboards and drawers. The kitchen isn’t usually a hotbed of secrets, bedrooms and bathrooms being the most fun in that regard, but with no access to either he’ll make do.
It’s worth it when he finds not one but two whole bags of penis shaped pasta in one cupboard. More wild than the white and beige themed decor suggests huh. Dean snorts.
The tiny click-clacks against floor and the sound of a gentle thump that follow his laugh into the silence of the room have him hastily closing the cupboard on the tiny penises and turning to find the source of the noise.
He's not alone.
Perched on the counter, beside the pizza, is a fluffy black cat happily making its way through the small spillage of milk.
Yeesh. There's no way that's sanitary… But at least the pizza is safe. For now at least. The allure of fresh milk was greater than that of Meat Lovers Supreme. This cat clearly has terrible priorities.
Not that he isn’t thankful for those priorities. No way is Dean sacrificing his ability to breathe to save this guy's pizza. Even if coming down to find Dean just watching a cat eating his dinner and making no move to stop it may affect any tip this guy might have considered giving.
To Dean’s dismay though, he watches as the cat finishes the last of the milk, then, reaching out its neck, it daintily sniffs the pizza box.
Ah shit.
Dean should go over and put a stop to this but… He really is allergic so sue him for not wanting to be blasted with the plague saving some random guy’s pizza. Tip be damned.
Dean watches, transfixed, as the little shit then slowly starts pawing at the side of the box in an attempt to get access to the food inside. He looks back at the door hoping the guy’s gonna come rushing in in time to save his pizza, but no such luck. The doorway stands empty. Should he shout up? Is that rude? Telling the guy to shag ass ‘cause his dinner’s about to become cat food? Goddamnit. This was supposed to be the beginning to an extremely dodgy porno, not a cat burglary.
Hearing something, Dean turns back and –
How the fuck did the cat manage that?! The source of the noise that drew his attention is apparent. Dean looks in horror as the fluffball of satan drags a slice out of the box, lid somehow lifted up and resting on the cupboard above it where it must have made a thud as it collided on the surface, the pizza now vulnerable to the whims of the cat. Then – slice securely gripped in its jaws – it jumps down and bolts out of the kitchen. Leaving Dean alone, mouth open in shock. A little smear of cheese and sauce across the floor the only evidence of its crime.
As he’s contemplating chasing after it, he hears the sound of footsteps making their way through the house and a second later the guy comes through the doorway, baby in one hand and wallet in the other.
“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find my wallet. $19.99, right?”
Dean can only stare as the guy fumbles with his wallet, the baby starting up an unrelenting scream. He glances over to the open pizza box and considers whether he has time to close it whilst the guy is distracted, and then leave before he notices anything is amiss.
Unfortunately not. Whilst the guy tries to calm the crying baby, bouncing it up and down in his – well defined, holy shit – arms, he tracks where Dean’s gaze had lingered too long, over to where the pizza sits on the counter.
“Ah, I can expl–”
“Did you… Did you eat a slice of my pizza?” He doesn’t even sound mad as he cuts Dean off, just supremely confused – brows furrowing over his blue eyes.
–
There’s clearly one entire slice missing. Castiel doesn’t know why he even asks, apart from the fact that not asking seems somehow worse.
“Look, man, it wasn’t me.” Pizza man says, defensive. He crosses his arms and appears to be unsure about whenever he’s going for a fight or going to have to plead his case.
Castiel laughs. Which seems to be such a surprising feat that the baby stops crying almost instantly, huge brown eyes turning towards Castiel instead. Castiel makes sure to not lessen his hold as he uses one of his hands to cover his eyes. It’s probably the stress finally finding a way to come through after the night he has had. He might not be savvy in the social interactions of the world, but he’s pretty sure your delivery person isn’t supposed to take a bite of your food, no matter the time spent. But of course it would happen today of all days, because why wouldn’t it.
When he finally stops, the man in front of him seems both bewildered and pleased. There’s a small smile at the edge of his lip.
“It’s fine,” Castiel dismisses as he tries to calm down. “I ordered too much for just me anyway.” Putting his wallet on the counter, he reaches out a hand, because he might as well at this point. “My name is Castiel.”
There’s a crack of thunder from outside, followed instantly by the sound of rain hitting the windows. Castiel looks up by mere instinct, as if he could see the sky breaking open instead of the ceiling. At least the power is still up.
–
Dean watches Castiel glance up to the ceiling as the thunder strikes and finds himself following his gaze up instinctually. Well. Now they’re both idiots looking at a ceiling in a thunderstorm.
He looks back at Cas quickly to find the same look of mild embarrassment mirrored on his face – his hand still held aloft in front of him, left hanging from his interrupted introduction and now starting to wilt. Dean throws him a conciliatory grin and reaches out to meet him in the handshake before he can take it back – repressing the instinctual shiver that threatens him when he feels warm skin on warm skin. Damn, soft hands.
“Name’s Dean.” He squeezes once before letting go. “And the little guy is..?”
Cas looks at the baby in his arms as if surprised to remember he’s still holding it.
“Ah. Yes. This is Tanya. I’m babysitting.”
“And catsitting apparently.”
“I. Yes, there is a… Why…” Cas seems thrown by the sudden introduction of the cat into the conversation, brows coming together in confusion again. Dean is not gonna admit how adorable that look is on him. “Did you… meet?”
“That’s who took the slice! I’m not joking, man. Thing came in here, drank your milk, then stole your fuc– Um… freaking pizza slice.”
“You can swear in front of the baby, Dean. Her brain isn’t fully developed and babies aren’t able to form lasting memories of things like language.”
“Oh. Sure, well, same deal but with added fuck, i guess.”
“So, you’re telling me the… cat stole this slice of pizza?”
“Yeah, man! I’d do a lot of things on the job but not eat your freakin’ pizza. Then I might not get that drink. Or something. You know, like you said, for the trouble?”
“The drink, of course, my apologies. I’ll just put Tany–”
“Or the something, I’m not fussy.” Dean needs to get a grip. He’s wading into dangerous territory here. Talk about careers lost to porn categories, a pizza delivery guy and a babysitter? C’mon, could this situation be more cliche. Cas is looking at him now, face unreadable, and Dean is squirming under his gaze.
He’s on the brink of just asking for tap water and making his excuses, when the power goes. Plunging them into near darkness lit only by a weak nightlight that’s placed by the door.
And then that blinks out also.
Fucking hell... talk about cliches.
–
It was a sip. He took a sip of wine at thirteen. How can God hold a grudge this long? At least- Nope. he’s not finishing that thought. He doesn’t even know where the candles are in this house. He can’t risk looking around with Tanya - and that was her name, Jesus- in his arms. What if he accidentally murders her? It all comes back to that.
“Shit.” Dean mutters from the dark. And right, there’s also that.
Castiel stops the urge to apologize for the power going out. He has no control over the electric system. He bounces Tanya a little, trying to keep her calm. She’s starting to fuss and Castiel finds himself shushing her softly.
“I am really sorry for all of this. Could you- Tanya, please, don’t start again.” He tries to keep his voice gentle, rubbing at her back. She nuzzles his neck, getting comfortable, and he sighs, relieved. “That’s a good girl. Thank you.”
Castiel looks back at Dean and despairs. Even muted by the darkness around him, he keeps looking like he walked out of Castiel’s dreams. Maybe, just maybe, Castiel can actually offer something else. He’s pretty sure Dean is flirting with him, which to be fair, could be how he gets better tips. Castiel still feels like he wants to risk it. He’s not sure how to go with it, though. Less so when there’s a baby in his arms that feels like it is getting heavier. But she wants to sleep and Castiel would love nothing more than to get her back on her crib. Upstairs. He doesn’t know enough of this house to navigate it in total darkness, but he could use the lamplight in his phone. That’s the start of a plan at least.
Tanya does not like Castiel moving his hand away from her back to reach for his phone. She makes that noise, that dreaded noise she makes before she starts wailing and Castiel can’t. He can’t deal with that again, so he starts rubbing her back instantly, humming something that might be the jingle from some ad he saw on Tv once.
“Cas,” Dean starts, his voice lowered to match Castiel’s nonsense tone. “What were you gonna ask?”
Castiel can’t even remember at this point. All his brain power is being devoted to keeping Tanya and a tiny bit is distracted by everything Dean. Why couldn’t this have happened at his apartment instead? Now, the only priority should be getting Tanya upstairs, safely and without tripping in anything that he can’t see. Well, maybe, just maybe, Castiel can make this a double edged plan.
“Dean, would you mind helping me grab my phone?” Castiel pleads, angling his hip towards the man. “It’s in my back- Come now, Tanya, you were being such a good girl, I bet you’re feeling sleepy and want to go to bed, don’t you?” If the pleading tone stays, well, he’s not taking his chances here. “I can’t reach the phone without her getting unsettled, would you mind?” Castiel explains. “Or if you have your phone on you…”
–
Well, Dean does have his phone on him but Cas hadn’t seen him at the door earlier when he’d been looking at the text from Sammy. So, would it be so bad if he just happened to… forget that little detail. The look on Cas’ face – lit by the slant of weak light from a streetlamp through the window – the way he’s already angled his body. Yeah. Dean would be an idiot to pass up this opportunity, right? Right. Not to mention, he doesn’t want the guy to feel awkward for offering up his own phone first, even if it is tucked up tight against his tush – only tacking on the suggestion of Dean’s phone as an afterthought. And Dean is nothing if not great with customers. He’s gonna earn that tip, so help him god.
It’s dark enough that his fumbled attempt to find the entrance to the pocket is justified, he reckons. He feels Cas jump slightly at the first touch, as Dean drags his hands over the rough material of the denim for a second, feeling for the telltale grooves and stitching, before finding the bulge of where the phone rests underneath.
Sliding his hand in he realizes he’s too far away – the angle of his wrist from where he is too awkward to slip in any further in order to adequately get a hold on the phone. He steps forward, fully beside Cas now, close enough that Dean’s chest is grazing his arm – Dean’s right arm wrapped around his back, giving him that extra length to slip his hand in so he can get a good grip.
This close he swears he can feel the warmth of Cas through the layers of clothing. He spares a moment to bless the lack of light. He’s not sure this move would feel as sexy and cool if his red polo shirt stitched with ‘Pizza Hunt’ and similarly stitched red cap was visible during all this. On the other hand, he’s also pretty sure this would be unbelievably more sexy if there wasn’t a baby crying over Cas’ shoulder whilst he fondled his ass on command. Stop thinking about fondling.
Pulling the phone out, he holds it out to Cas.
He stays like that for a few seconds, waiting, before remembering it’s dark and Cas can’t see him.
“Uh, here. You want me to or…?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Just turn the torch mode on so we can get upstairs safely.”
Oh god. Upstairs? This guy wants to take him upstairs? Okay. Play it cool, Winchester.
He activates the phone's torch and catches Cas flinching away from the light at the same time Dean does before he quints over at Dean in the sudden brilliance. What fucking watt bulb is this, Jesus Christ.
“If you could hold it whilst we go up? I’m sorry about this, I just need to get the baby settled.” Cas says as he turns and begins leading Dean out the kitchen through the house. “You don’t drive a moped, do you?”
“I- A what?”
“One of those small motorbikes. I’ve seen a few delivery people use them, I’m not sure they should be allowed though. I’ve seen the statistics, they can be very dangerous to drive. I only ask because I’m not certain you should be driving one in weather like this,” Cas turns back to Dean and gives him a once over. “Especially if that’s all you’re wearing.”
Dean can’t help following Cas’ look, glancing down at himself. He doesn’t know why he does it, he knows what he’s wearing, it hasn’t changed since he put it on for his shift. When he looks back up Cas has turned away again. Well, not exactly the way he was hoping to be checked out and definitely not the outfit he’d have liked to be wearing but he’ll take it.
They’ve reached the stairs and Cas leads him up them slowly, hand coming up to cup the baby’s head as he ascends – the torch light only just reaching all the way to the top landing.
“No way I’d go for a bike, man. I mean, I can respect it, different strokes for different folks and all that but nah. The Impala ‘67 out front? That’s my girl. Real smooth. Baby’s good for all weather, trust me, saved my life more times than I can count.”
–
No one should look good in that uniform, it’s all Cas is saying. He knows there are people out there with uniform kinks or whatever, but he’s almost certain those don’t apply to pizza delivery ones. It’s plain unfair, when Castiel himself has stains he doesn’t even remember getting on his shirt. His hair must look a mess on top of everything else and Dean had been so close to him for a few precious seconds, and for what?
He tries to connect back to the conversation as Dean answers. Castiel hadn’t seen the car, when he opened the door for Dean, but he guesses that Dean must know her - and the car is a she, because of course she is- better than Castiel’s abysmal knowledge of cars. The only thing he understood of that sentence was the year and that doesn’t bring forth the confidence Dean seems to think it does. But it’s better than the bike, even if it kinda sucks that Dean would be able to leave as soon as they are done.
Okay, wow. Sounding a bit like a kidnapper there, Cas. Maybe he needs to get his mind off the gutter and get Tanya safely in her crib. Step one of the plan. Sticking to that.
“I’m glad you have her.” Castiel says softly, both because the darkness seems to beg for it and because Tanya is dozing off on his shoulder.
“You and me both, buddy.”
“And that the weather isn’t much trouble either.” Castiel tacks on, the sheet of rain pounding the windows merciless to emphasize his point.
“Not really your fault, man.”
On top of everything else, the torch light isn’t exactly all encompassing, which is the only reason Castiel makes sure Dean isn’t so far behind him that he won’t be able to see the floor in front of him. The trek to Tanya’s room isn’t far from the stairs, and she settles on her crib without much fuzz, replacing Castiel’s shoulder with one of her blankets, bunched up and hugged before slowly released. Dean stays at the door, the light enough that when Castiel looks around, he can see the relaxed way Dean stands, and Jesus, he hasn’t gotten less attractive through exposure. More so, maybe.
“Thank you,” Castiel says, as he makes his way back to Dean, leaving the door the smallest bit open to be able to hear Tanya if anything happens. “I know this night probably hasn’t gone the usual way.” Taking a breath and looking right back at Dean’s green eyes, lighter than he has seen them before under the edges of the torchlight, he finally offers. “Why don’t we go back to the kitchen? I think I owe you something.”
–
Dean doesn’t get hard. But it’s a near thing.
This guy’s voice shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near innuendo, it’s singlehandedly fucking with Dean’s head. The low, rough way he said I think I owe you something has the signals connecting his knees to his head mixed up and for a second he’s not sure if they’re gonna buckle or not. He doesn’t say to Cas that he can give him everything he owes him up here if he wants– no need to get the kitchen involved. Preferably in one of these rooms. Preferably tangled in sheets. He doesn’t say that but boy does he want to.
“Heh. Sure, yeah, uh. I mean, no pressure, man. You really don’t- it’s, you know, not your fault. You don’t actually owe me anything. I can just, you know, head out.” Is Dean’s mind in overdrive at the situation they’ve found themselves in? Yes. Is he gonna force his company on this poor guy who’s just tryna eat pizza and keep a baby alive when he’d much rather be alone? No. Giving the guy an out is just the polite thing to do.
“No. No, Dean, I insist and I’ve already established my unease with letting you go out into weather like this. No matter how much you trust, uh, ‘Baby’” He fucking brings his hands up to mime quotation marks around the word as he says it. God, what an A-list nerd. Dean’s knees, bizarrely, are feeling weak again. But he’s not going to examine what that says about him. Instead he lets his cocky grin come out to play as he gently prods the situation, tryna gauge intention.
“Oh yeah? We gonna be hunkering down for the night, Cas? Braiding each other's hair and talking about the boys we have crushes on? It's a little soon for that, aint it?” Dean smirks. “Besides, don't think Mr and Mrs Tanya would be best pleased to come back to find the pizza delivery guy stuck around for drinks with their babysitter. I’ve seen group scenes start that way, you know.”
Cas tilts his head. That confused furrowed brow and squint combo from earlier making an appearance again – all combining to make Dean's hands itch with the desire to reach out to touch.
“I would imagine all group scenes start with the addition of new members.”
Dean can’t help it. Cas is one unintentionally funny sonofabitch and Dean may not be 12 anymore but he can laugh at dick jokes like the best of them – dick jokes never get old.
He loses it, standing there in the dark hallway lit only by torchlight, clapping a hand on Cas’ solid shoulder as he wheezes.
“Dean. ” A hint of exasperation is bleeding into his voice now as Dean just leans on him and chuckles. “ Dean. What are you doing? Why are you laughing?”
“Oh man. New members indeed eh.” That just sets him off chuckling again. “Never change, Cas. Never change.”
“You hardly know me.” Cas scowls back at him but Dean finds it hard to be put off. Damn, do all facial expressions look adorable on this guy? He’s about as non threatening as a kitten.
“Yeah well, we got time. C’mon then, I hope you’re not just all bark and no bite.” He gives Cas’ shoulder a final pat as he’s talking and then straightens up, still chuckling – before turning, and careful to not leave Cas completely in the dark as, after a moment's pause and a sigh, he follows Dean back downstairs.
As Cas steps down from the last stair, there’s a sputtering of light. Then full brightness as the ceiling lights flood over them. Well, at least the powers back on. At this rate the pizza’s gonna need to be reheated anyway. He looks over at Cas, mouth opening to speak, only to see him looking away from Dean, staring at something on the floor a meter or so from where Cas stands.
Lying on the floor in a sad little heap, pretty much all traces of meat and cheese gone, is a half eaten pizza slice.
–
Castiel looks back at Dean, just to corroborate that there’s indeed a slice of pizza on the floor. Dean is also staring at it, so at least that checks out with it not being a simple aftermirage of too sudden light. It does open a whole other can of questions. Firstly and most importantly, in Cas’ opinion, why?
“Is your pizza sentient?”
Dean turns towards him, “What?”
“That wasn’t there when we went upstairs, was it?” Cas asks instead of answering. He doesn’t move.
“Can’t say I saw that, pal, but there was no power so who am I to say, yanno?” Dean turns off his torchlight. The pizza loses the spotlight.
The rain shakes the windows as they stand there. Castiel can’t remember leaving any window open, which is the only reason he didn’t walk through the house closing them. The last thing he would need after this job would be stuff getting wet and docked out of his pay. His brain is trying to fire out neurons but he’s so tired. So tired for pizza shenanigans. Only awake for shenanigans with the pizza man.
Speaking of.
“Should we check if the rest of the pizza is there? Do I get a refund if the ghosts got it?” Castiel attempts to joke, walking towards the kitchen.
Dean chuckles. “Man, they didn’t prepare me for pizza eating ghosts.”
“Then let’s pray that the pizza is there. I still owe you your tip and your something.”
“Oh, is it a tip and something now?”
“I think we have been through so much tonight, that is only fair.”
“Can’t say no to fair.” Dean says, moving ahead and entering the kitchen first. “Pizza safe!”
Castiel leans on the wall, watching Dean giving him ridiculous thumbs up and making sure his own hands are trapped behind his back. Quelling the desire to kiss Dean grows harder as the night ticks away.
“To be honest with you-The plates are on the upper cupboard, yes- that makes the slice of pizza even more suspicious.”
“Or less so.” Dean says, pointing with his chin towards the fridge. Castiel goes. “Puss in boots might explain things.”
“Oh,” Castiel takes out two sodas and cracks one of them open, taking a sip and closing the fridge's door with his hip. “I… forgot about the cat.” He admits. “Your drink.” He says to Dean’s back, the unopened can avoiding touching by mere inches.
“Oh,” Dean looks over his shoulder as he takes it. “Thanks, man.”
Castiel hears the can being opened as Dean uses his other hand to put the plates on the counter. He waits until Dean’s taking a sip.
“Want your something now or shall we wait for the “ghost” to eat the rest?” Castiel says before taking his own sip, eyes glued to Dean’s back.
–
Dean almost chokes on his next sip.
Turning, he finds Cas’ eyes on him already, his hand loosely holding his own soda – condensation making tracks down the cold metal. God… No one's eyes should be allowed to be that intense. The power's back on so the kitchen lights don't take mercy in their shining and they fill up Cas' eyes like a pool – sunshine through water. Dean feels tethered to the spot. By cas' gaze… by his seemingly innocuous offer of… something.
Small miracles, he manages somehow, to climb out of the pool that is Cas' eyes and scramble around for some semblance of a normal reply.
Bypassing the alluring promise of Cas’ mystery ‘something’ completely in case his heart beats out his chest, he focuses on the other aspect of that question. The ghost. The pizza ghost. He has the key to that mystery.
"Ghost’s a funny name for it. I'm starting to wonder whether you had an ulterior purpose in calling me here. You got 1000 hungry cats to feed hidden away somewhere, Hugo?" Dean leans forward on the kitchen island, tongue pushed up against his teeth, smile playful. He knows how Hugo got those women to come home and be cat food for him. A little wining and dining - always a solid lure. Only in his case its soda and lukewarm pizza, Dean's not sure he'd be happy being murdered after this last meal but beggers can't be choosers.
And Dean knows he's cute, okay. The outfit doesn’t work for everyone but he makes it look good. And he'd been reasonably sure a little leaning into Cas' space, a little smile, some flirting, and yahtzee. The rest would be history.
But instead Cas is looking… confused. And when he speaks it's slow and unsure.
"Dean, my name is Castiel…. not Hugo. I don't know where you got…" Cas fiddles with his can, turning it round and round in his hand before looking up at Dean, worry wrinkling his brow and so very serious suddenly "I want to assure you, I had no ulterior motives calling for pizza. I'm not sure what kind of motives you might be suggesting but if I've made you uncomfortable then I apologize, I had thought perhaps that since… but well, I – never mind. I didn't mean to–"
Dean cuts him off before he can work himself into more of a state.
"Dude, I was just referencing a film, I’m not uncomfortable. In fact, I’m sitting pretty over here, drink and pizza, what more could a guy need,” Dean watches carefully as Cas loses the worried look that Dean caused by putting his foot in his mouth spewing film crap at the guy. He knows Sammy is laughing somewhere at Dean’s failed attempts to flirt. “You never seen 'Night of 1000 Cats' huh? Main character’s called Hugo, hence, uh yeah… Anyway, I know your name, Cas. No way I could forget it."
"Oh."
Dean is very quickly losing the thread of this conversation, he very much is not in control right now. Get a grip, winchester!
"’Because of the ghost? Y’know, ‘cause it was just a cat so... The cat that lives here being the pizza ghost? That's all I was getting at. No need to worry about being haunted now! Unless, uh, you're into that."
“Oh. That makes a lot more sense.” Cas huffs out a small laugh as their eyes meet over the kitchen island. The sound of the rain on the windows is less ferocious now, more a rhythmic patter than a full on assault. “Although, I’m not familiar with the film. Sorry.”
Dean picks up the slice of pizza Cas generously gave him and stuffs half of it into his mouth, talking through his chewing. “’s a classic. I’ll show you sometime. Next time you babysit, order another pizza and I’ll take the rest of the night off.” Dean gives Cas an exaggerated wink.
–
“And will you take the rest of my pizza as well?” Castiel asks, stupidly giddy. Next time. “Any taste preference?”
“Man, as long as it ain’t packed with rabbit food, I’ll eat anything.”
“A deal, then.” Castiel offers his hand and tries to not let himself smile as Dean jams the rest of the pizza on his mouth, hurriedly wiping his hand on his pants.
They shake on it.
Dean’s hand is warm and his fingertips not completely clean, but Castiel feels the sudden need to help him. To make it worse, maybe. To get rid of the grease or at least replace it with something else. There’s a whole table between them, but Castiel can imagine grasping Dean’s wrist instead of letting go. He can almost hear the intake of breath as he would bring that hand close to his mouth. Cas thinks he would prefer to keep his eyes on Dean’s, see his reaction when Castiel finally gives up and tastes him. He wonders if the fight will go out of Dean’s frame, if he would deflate and melt as easily as butter on a hot day. Maybe it would be the opposite and the flashes of cockiness would come back full force, a challenge instead of a surrender. Briefly, a second inside a second, he wonders if he would see nothing at all, if feeling Dean’s skin under his tongue would make Castiel close his eyes instead, overwhelmed by it. Castiel isn’t sure which one would be better, but he’s dying to find out.
It’s gone as fast as a lighting strike, but Castiel knows he can reproduce it inside his head, bottled it up for whenever this surreal night is over. Or maybe he won’t have to. Maybe Dean actually means it, instead of joking. The significance of a wink is going to Castiel's own personal road of hell.
He doesn’t even have good intentions, Castiel laments, as he moves to the other side of the counter. He saddles up next to Dean, disguising it as taking one of the slices of pizza he could’ve easily grabbed from where he was standing before.
“You are also putting a lot of faith in me getting another job as a babysitter,” Castiel points out, turning towards Dean. “My performance-” Castiel can’t finish, because Dean has also turned towards him and the distance is practically non-existent.
Dean has freckles.
Castiel isn’t sure if he should blame the lack of sleep, the stress or maybe just the impossibility of existing close to Dean for doing what he does.
He leans in.
–
Oh God, it’s happening, it’s actually happening. This is insane. Is he really about to make out with this guy he’s just met? Saying it like that he realizes that’s what he does all the time. He is king of the one night stand. How is this any different really. Some people get their kicks with strangers at bars and some people apparently get their kicks inviting the pizza delivery guy in and then seducing them. Dean is nothing if not on board. He’s been laying the foundation hard all evening and finally, some proof this guys picking up what he’s been putting down.
Dean licks his lips once. Slow. Cas’ eyes track the movement, blue losing ground as Dean sees his pupils dilate. He smirks.
Putty in his hands.
Dean closes the distance easily, suddenly wanting with a fierce twist in his stomach. Not nervousness though but excitement. Preparation. Head angled, he brings his lips to Cas’, his bottom lip snugly fitted between Deans. Cas’ lips are dry and so, only to be considerate of course, he slowly traces Cas’ lips with his tongue to wet them and Cas sighs into it – lips parted, his breath warm as it washes over Dean. Fills his mouth. Dean retracts his tongue and they stay like that for a moment, the night distilled down into just the scant space between them where they share breaths. Cas’ eyes flutter open and meet Dean’s. Then Cas’ hand snakes up, fingertips cold against his flushed neck and he’s pulling Dean in, lips slotting back together. A hunger where before there was tentative exploration.
Fuck yes . Dean is singing inside, he is purring like a goddamn cat. The room, the circumstances, the day of the week. It all falls away and all that’s left is where Cas is now pressing them, legs to chest, against each other. Where Dean is experiencing wave after wave of warm desire. Suffusing into him through every point of contact.
Cas’ shirt is rucked up and scrunched up tight in his fist on his waist. He walks Cas backwards, not breaking the kiss once, and feels the jolt as Cas’ back makes contact with the counter.
Then, from between them – the loud, unmistakable growl of an empty stomach.
Dean pulls back, a thin string of spit breaking off. Cas’ eyes are wide and dazed as he looks at Dean and then looks down.
“I think, uh, maybe someones a bit hungry, huh, sunshine,” Dean’s smiling, he can’t help it. Now slightly out of the haze of want, he’s feeling light headed – on a high. Unable to believe that just happened. Unable to believe the call of pizza broke the moment. “Better feed the beast before it eats you whole.” He waggles his eyebrows, grinning, but Cas just glares at his stomach in betrayal. Dude’s got no right being that cute when he’s angry.
He leads Cas back to the table and shoves his plate at him. Stuffing his own cooling second slice into his mouth. Cas watches him over the slice that’s already halfway to his mouth, unimpressed.
“I’m reevaluating my initial attraction to you.”
Dean just scoffs. “Whatever you say, hotshot, can’t argue with fact” He looks down for a second, nervous. “Look, uh, sorry to dine and dash or whatever but I really gotta scoot. I’m kinda on the clock.” He tries not to feel guilty at the sudden apprehension that flits across Cas’ face.
“Oh. You have other deliveries? Won’t they be… a little cold by now?”
“Nah. I mean, you were my last but, you know, I gotta go back and finish the shift. Also, got the kid to think about,” As Cas’ eyebrows climb higher Dean hastens to qualify. “Baby brother! Not my kid! He’s just, he’s a bitch of a younger brother, probably staying up too late reading books or, I don’t know, writing extra essays to kiss ass. Classic teenage rebellion.” Cas smiles, small but amused, and he relaxes a bit.
“That’s fine, Dean. I…” He looks worried now as he wipes some stray sauce from his lip, and Dean itches to reach and smooth his thumb over the furrows between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry for keeping you so long and… Well.”
“Man, It’s no problem. In fact, how about,” He looks around, finding a post-it note stack and pen on the counter near the door, and grabs them, scribbling messily. “Just call me sometime and make it up to me.”
Leaning forward on his elbows he holds the number out, tucked between his pointer and middle finger. He winks. One last time for luck. He’s not sure at what number winks become sleazy but he doesn’t think he’s ever maxed out before. The way he puts the pen between his teeth as he waits for Cas’ reaction however… Perhaps he is slipping into sleaze territory.
Cas takes the number from him reverentially, placing it on the surface to read – the three x’s at the bottom large under Dean’s name. He looks back to him. Dean pulls the tip out, dragging his lower lip out with it, and takes a gleeful pride in the way Cas’ eyes follow its journey with a single minded attentiveness.
“Of course, Dean. It would be my honor.” Cas says with a sincerity that Dean is sure doesn’t fit the situation they’ve found themselves in, that he’s sure he’s undeserving of. He tries to brush it off, cheeks feeling hot under Cas’ warm, blue eyes.
“Yeah, uh, well. I’ll show myself out,” He stands up straight, shuffling backwards, unable to bring himself to look away from where Cas is sitting watching him walk away. “Dinners on you next time.”
“I’m fairly certain it was on me this time as well. In fact, you got paid to eat it, Dean.” The amount of fondness in Cas’ look doesn’t match up with the short amount of time they’ve known each other and yet, he cannot help but bask in it. A cat in sunlight.
“Right, ha, I, yeah, well I’ll see you… Uh, later. See you around!” And, flushed and stammering, Dean turns his back on Cas. Can still feel the weight of his gaze even so, shivering slightly at the phantom touch – he leaves.
Turning after closing the door, he comes face to face with a nice looking couple.
“Ah. The parents I assume? Sorry, uh, babysitter got hungry. I’m pretty sure the little squirt’s still alive and kicking, so…” He stutters out, trying not to give off ‘I would have given your babysitter a blowie in the kitchen if his stomach hadn’t issued a category five warning’ “Anyway, hope you had a nice evening! Gotta finish my rounds, you know how it is.” He shrugs in a what can ya do! way and brushes past the couple, leaving their bemused faces in his wake.
He can’t wait around to make idle small talk. He plans on getting home as soon as possible and taking a nice, long shower, thinking only of blue eyes.